Pureblood
by Lauren Something
Summary: DracoHermione romance. Fourth chapter now up.
1. History of Draco

Pureblood

~

"Hey! Hey, Granger!" 

She didn't answer, just walked by me with that gigantic nose of hers pointed straight in the air. 

"What's the matter, Mudblood? Can't you hear me?"

I had struck a nerve. Her haughty look faltered, and she turned around as though to say something to me, then reached into her robes. For a fleeting instant, I was scared... Granger may be a Mudblood, with filthy Muggles for parents, but she could perform the trickiest of curses better than anyone in the fifth year at Hogwarts.

"Why don't you get a life, Malfoy?" She retorted instead, and walked off, her nose in the air again, the look of superiority back.

Weasley walked by after Granger, looking down at me... well, hard not to look down at me, being that size, and made a violent gesture at me.

"Now, now, Weasley," I said tauntingly, waving a finger. "That's not Hogwarts behavior, is it?"

I smirked sastisfingly as the Slytherins around me snickered.

"Shove off, Malfoy," he muttered, beforePotter pushed him forward to the rest of the dirty little Gryffindors.

I watched them, still smirking. Nothing gave me as much satisfaction as getting under their skin.

"What have we got today?" I asked my two best friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. 

They looked at me stupidly. What idiots! If it wasn't for the fact that I was small, I wouldn't waste my time with them. A person with a mouth like mine needs some backup.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I hang out with Crabbe and Goyle for several reasons. One being that my mouth did have the tendency to wander, and it's very hard to fend off people when you're my size, even with a wand. I also had to associate with them because their fathers are right in the league with mine - and in the secret group of hiding Voldemort supporters. Wouldn't look good if I shunned them... might even make me seem innocent.

I love my father. 

No, I don't. I love the idea of my father. He is clever and cunning... how else could he have wormed his way out of Azkaban when all the other Death Eaters were destined? My God, he was practically on a first name basis with the Dark Lord. He always looks out for me and wants the best for me. Even wanted to send me to Durmstrang, where I would have gotten a proper education in the Dark Arts, so I could join him and the Death Eaters when Voldemort returned to power (as they know he will.)

My father cares about me, but I'm not sure if love is the right word. More like he lives his life through me.

I, however, am comfortable wtth that. I have everything I want, my father has always been able to provide abundantly for me and my mother.

Fed up with the idiocy of Crabbe and Goyle, I turned to the person sitting next to me and asked, "What do the Slytherin fifth years have today?"

Oh, God. It was Pansy Parkinson. She'd been infatuated with me since the moment the Sorting Hat touched my head. I'd taken her to the Yule Ball in hopes of getting her off my back afterwards, but no such luck. If anything, she was more clingy than ever... like we were dating or something. Oh well, at least it made me seem one-up on old Potter, who hasn't seen so much of a woman as that insufferable Granger Mudblood.

"Potions with the Gryffindors, Draco," she purred, batting her eyelashes at me. I wanted to vomit. "Then Transfiguration and Charms."

"Right," I said, turning my attention back to breakfast. I should curse her right out of her seat. I should make her land on Snape, that would be something. I actually sniggered. 

"What's so funny, Draco?" Pansy said next to me.

"Nothing," I replied, annoyed. I got up and left the table, signaling for Crabbe and Goyle to follow. Both of them seemed greatly disappointed that they wouldn't be finishing breakfast today. Oh well. They could both do with losing a bit of wieght.

I started down the corridor to Potions. Crabbe and Goyle headed towards Transfiguration.

"Where are you two going?" I yelled to them. They turned stupidly and ran to catch up.

I rolled my eyes. "How slow can you get?" I muttered, before leading the way to Professor Snape's dungeon.

Quite suddenly, I realized I did not have my wand with me. Damn.

I stopped in the middle of the corridor. "You two go ahead, I've got to find my wand," I said. "You can make it there without getting lost, can't you?"

They started off and I headed in the opposite direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Granger running at top speed.

"What's the matter, Granger? Going to be late?" I yelled after her, but she didn't turn around.

I retrieved my wand from my dormitory, taking my time. I swaggered into Professor Snape's class five minutes late.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," I drawled lazily. "I had to get my wand from the dormitory."

Snape nodded. "Well, sit down and try to catch up," he responded.

I guess I'm pretty lucky as far as Professor Snape. He hates about every person to arrive on Platform nine-and-three-quarters, but he's always sort of liked me, so I don't usually have to worry about getting yelled at for being late. He's also my Head of House, which doesn't hurt. It's really true what everyone says: He does favor the Slytherins, greatly, but who's going to challenge Professor Snape?

I sat down at my usual place between Crabbe and Goyle. "Did you two manage to figure out what kind of potion we're making?" I asked.

Crabbe showed me the piece of paper he'd been taking notes on. "'Invisibility Elixir,'" I read. "'Makes the drinker invisible for thrity minutes.' Well, sounds useful," I said, looking up. "How far have you gotten?" 

Surprising. They'd gotten more than halfway through.

"Well, I suppose I can take it from here," I said. "I hope you haven't messed it up."

While I was stirring, I stole a glance across the room. Hermione Granger was stirring vigorously while hissing directions at Longbottom. As I watched, she accidentally splashed some of the Eleixir onto her books, which promptly vanished.

Stupid Mudblood.


	2. Knocked Me Off My Feet (literally)

I have always been this malevolent.

When I was about two, I started picking up my father's ways. Two! I suppose it's no wonder I'm like I am. He taught me everything I know about wizarding types - what to embrace, what to avoid.

However, I really don't see anything wrong with my disposition, it always just seems like the thing I've been doing all my life. 

That Potter. I could've really helped him. But he had to go around with that stupid Weasley trash, and now he couldn't tell a pureblood from a Mudblood if it had a sign taped to it and danced in front of him.

I am an honorable wizard.

My family is all magical, not a stinking Muggle among us. And you'd better believe if there was one, they'd be done away with faster than you could say "_Avada Kedavra._" I have followed my family's footsteps in Slytherin. I have welcomed those like me and shunned those against me. I know who my true friends are - the ones with the faithful families to Lord Voldemort. Someday I will be among them, and I will be welcome to the Death Eaters just as my father was.

The Malfoys are honorable.

Of course, it's very hushed. If anyone was to hear we were still waiting patiently for our time to return to Voldemort, we'd all be thrown into Azkaban. That's one reason my father wanted me to become friends with Potter - so it wouldn't seem to suspicious. After all, who would suspect the Malfoys still being under Voldemort's command if their son was friends with the boy who caused his "downfall"?

I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot stick now. Especially now that he's got that Granger Mudblood and that red-headed disgrace to wizards everywhere hanging all over him. His Harry Potter fan club. The thought made me sick.

Still, I only have Care of Magical Creatures and Potions with the filth, so I'm not too disturbed by them.

I joined the rest of the Slytherins in the Great Hall for dinner. On my way, I ran straight into a very solid something and both of us were knocked off our feet.

"Ouch!" I muttered. The other person was getting up - it was Granger! Ugh! And I ran right _into_ her!

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood!" I shot at her, and rose to my feet.

I looked at her and was surprised to see that she had tears in her eyes.

"Get away from me, Malfoy!" She yelled through tears, and ran away from me.

"Hey, I'm sorry," I told her, then realized what I had said.

__

Sorry? To _Hermione Granger?_ Did I just _apologize_ to her? To this dirty excuse of a witch? What was _wrong_ with me?

And yet, as she turned in surprise at my words, I somewhat knew why I had said it. 

I felt bad.

Why? Why did I feel shame at being mean to her? I'd done it for four years. Why was it all of a sudden different?

She turned and walked quickly into the Great Hall. I followed at a distance and sat at the Slytherin table. 

"Hello, Draco," said Pansy Parkinson as I sat down. More annoyed by her than ever, I didn't answer. Instead, I glanced over at the Gryffindors. 

My eye wandered to where Hermione was sitting. As I looked at her, she looked away, as though she had been watching me. 

That was ridiculous.

Granger hated me. I hated her. That's always the way it's been. She's a stinking, filthy, dirty witch. I hate her more than anything.

Or do I?


	3. Invisibilty Cloaks and Adrenaline Rushes

The day had not been good.

It started out okay; I got up, washed, dressed, growled at Crabbe and Goyle for being idiots, and left the Slytherin common room unscathed. 

I took a while longer than usual walking to the Great Hall for breakfast. I was half hoping to run into someone... again. I was thinking this unconsciously, I'm sure, because I know perfectly well I hate Hermione. 

I mean that Granger Mudblood.

When I didn't see her, or anyone, for that matter, in the corridors, I was almost disappointed. Why? I'm not sure. 

The thing is, I've been taught to hate people like Hermi - um, Granger. "Filthy, stinking, good-for-nothing wizards," as my father would say, and had been saying since I was very young. 

So why couldn't I bring myself to hate her anymore?

It wasn't that I _liked_ her or anything, I told myself, just hated her less. 

Maybe I'm ill.

~

Halfway through the day, I was showing no signs of sickness and I still didn't hate Hermione Granger. In fact, I didn't dislike her at all. And I felt bad when I snapped at Hagrid during Care of Magical Creatures. Why? Because he's close to Hermione. Granger! I mean Granger.

So I left that class feeling upset.

Transfiguration, my other morning class that day, was like any other. But H - Granger isn't in that class.

The next time I saw her was at lunch. She was walking with Potter and Weasley, talking and laughing. I felt a hot surge of anger and jealousy as I watched them. They seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, Hermione between them. As I watched, Ron whispered something to Hermione and she blushed and giggled.

I suddenly lost my appetite.

No Potions today, so the next time I would see her would be at dinner.

Surprising myself, I was anxiously awaiting supper that night. _Well, I must be hungry,_ I thought. _That's why. No other reason._

Even inside my head, I knew it was a bloody stupid excuse.

I wanted to see her.

~

As I lay in bed that night, I remembered my earlier argument with myself. Over Hermione. Over a stupid Mud - um, Muggle-born.

I don't know why, but the term "Mudblood" has become somewhat offensive to me.

__

Why couldn't I hate her? Actually, I did: I hated her for looking at me with her brown eyes filled with tears, for making me fell compelled to _apologize_ to her. 

Feel compelled? I angrily told myself. I did it of my own accord! Nothing _compelled_ me! And that's what bothered me most of all!

No, the thing that bothered me most of all was that it was getting harder and harder to ridicule her, and to make myself see her as my father wants me to.

My father.

A little voice in the back of my head tells me my father has no say in this. 

I know that, I know that, and I like that I should be able to have my own opinion of Hermione.

God, I hope I'm not falling in love.

~

Midnight came and went, and still I couldn't sleep. I decided I could use a nighttime stroll. It didn't occur to me that was, well, not allowed.

I walked out of the Slytherin common room into the corridors, wandering the halls, watching the paintings. Most of them were asleep, but there were a few who lingered, chatting with each other or eating. 

I was so absorbed in the artwork, I didn't hear another set of footsteps coming down the hall towards me.

By the time I noticed them, I was afraid it was too late to hide myself. I strained my ear and knew the footsteps were close, but I couldn't see anybody. Confused, I stood rooted to the spot, not bothering to conceal myself. Finally, I took a tentative step forward - and stepped on something slippery. 

I lost my footing and fell backwards, dragging something with me. When I sat up, I saw a long, silvery, liquidish looking cloak draped over me, and Hermione Granger standing, looking horrified, above me.

My heart leapt. 

"Malfoy!" She hissed. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said, not as maliciously as I would have liked. "Couldn't give me a hand, could you?"

She looked startled, but extended her hand. I took it and pulled myself up, holding the cloak.

"What is this thing?" I asked.

"It-it's an Invisibility Cloak," she replied, hesitant and uncertain.

"Potter's?" I asked.

She bit her lip, then nodded.

I realized then she was trembling.

"Hey - you don't have to be afraid of me, you know," I told her without looking up.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said in a very unconvincing tone.

Finally, I looked at her. "What _are _you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Walking," she said, more bravely this time. "Just walking. Can I have Harry's cloak back, now?"

"In a minute," I said, hoping to protract her stay. 

"Give it here!" She commanded firmly.

"Fine, fine," I said softly, handing it to her reluctantly. 

"Er - thanks," she whispered, her expression softening.

I was still holding onto the Invisibility Cloak, and so was she.

"Um...Malfoy," she said suddenly. "The - the cloak..."

"What? Oh, sorry," I apologized to her for the second time in a little over a week.

She looked at me with a sort of penetrating stare. Then she spoke.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She blurted out.

Taken aback, I fixed her with a Malfoy Look. I hadn't realized how civil I was being.

"I'm tired," I snapped. 

Her face fell. She turned and started to walk away.

"Hey - wait," I called, without realizing it. When she turned, she looked as surprised as I was.

"What?" She asked, walking back towards me.

I just looked at her. Something had come over me, and I wasn't entirely sure I liked it, but I wanted her to stay. 

"Walk with me," I said suddenly.

"What?" She replied, louder this time.

"Walk. With. Me."

What was I saying? I was supposed to be at war with this girl! And yet...

"Um," she stuttered, looking around. "Al-Alright, I suppose."

"Throw the cloak over us so no one sees."

She was looking at me, puzzled. I didn't blame her. I was puzzled myself.

She hesitated, then threw the cloak over our shoulders. We stood close together and made our way down the corridor.

We didn't say anything for a very long time. She was leading. We walked through tapestries and up staircases, through solid walls and past snoring portraits. Finally, she stopped at a picture of a very fat lady in a very hideous pink dress.

"Um - this is the Gryffindor Tower," she whispered. 

"Oh, right," I said. 

There was an awkward silence.

"Hey - can I take this?" I asked, motioning to the cloak. "I'll probably need it to get back to Slytherin House. I can give it back to you tomorrow."

As hard as she was working to conceal her confusion and puzzlement over my sudden change in attitude, it wasn't working.

"I guess you can," she replied. "Just make sure you give it back."

"I will," I said. 

She didn't take it off. We were facing each other, our noses and inch apart. 

It happened very suddenly. In a rush of adrenaline, I leaned forward quickly and kissed her. She didn't push me away, but when we broke apart she looked as though she'd been Stunned.

"I - I -" was all she could stammer.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I - have to go -"

But she shouted, "Wait!" and I turned, and couldn't take it, and I pulled her close and kissed her again. She held me back, her arms around me, and we stood there, the Invisibility Cloak forgotten at our feet.

My father will not be happy.


	4. Reflection on 'Malfoy' and Discoveries

            _Malfoy._ The name strikes a certain fear in the hearts of those who hear it. Little did I think that I would one day be one of them.

            Since the night Hermione and I kissed, one month ago to the day, my mind has been on two topics and these two only: her, and my father.

            Normally, I wouldn't worry about such petty things. Have some fun with the girl, leave her, and Daddy never has to know. But this was different, and I knew it. 

            I saw her, walking down the hallway towards me. Our eyes met briefly, but the expressions on our faces remained motionless. Neither one of us was about to give away information about who we were seeing. Hermione would become an outcast, shunned by her two best friends and the rest of her house. I – I would lose much as well. More than Hermione thinks. 

            The day after we kissed, we met in the library after dark. To my surprise, she broached the subject of keeping our relationship secret. I was only too happy to agree. I gave her the excuse of saving my reputation – which is partly true, but in terms of the real reason, it's only the tip of the iceberg.

            Yes, I do have a reputation to uphold. Malfoys are proud and pureblooded, and many years of reinforcing this would make my downfall all the worse if Hermione and I were revealed. More importantly, however, I would be shunned by my father, my family, and most likely hunted down and killed. It sounds savage. It is. But that's the way we operate. My parents would claim insanity – "she used the Imperius Curse on him, we had to do it" – anything to save the precious Malfoy name.

            I lay in my bedroom that night, thinking of her. One month. One month we'd been together, and our only time alone was during the night, when we could walk about unseen under cover of darkness. But I lived for those nights. We talked together, mostly about each other. I found out more about her every day. I remained more selective about the information I gave her about my past. I wanted her to know everything about me, but if she knew what kind of environment I'd been raised in, she might fully understand the peril she put herself in by being with me – and I don't want her to fear being with me. I love her.

            I love her?

~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm going to be updating this story a lot more from now on, until it's finished. Thanks to all of you who reviewed – you're the ones who kept the story going!


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